


The Wolf of the Mountain

by BlueEyedArcher



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Best Friends, Bounty Hunters, Collars, Curses, Dryad!Faith, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Mating Bond, Multi, Musical Spells, Muteness, Nokken - Freeform, Nokken!Thom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sacred Mountain, Satyr, Satyr!Jasper, Sibling Bonding, Siren!Joseph, Spells & Enchantments, Teratophilia, Water Dragon - Freeform, Water Dragon!John, Werewolf!Jacob, Whitetail Mountain, Wolf Pack, judges
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-01 08:23:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Hoof beats thundering across the landscape. Each step digging into the earth, leaving a trail of their fleeing path. The heavy panting of a broad chest was hot on his trail. Paws tearing through the wooded trail behind him, ripping branches from limbs as he pushed on ahead. The low growl felt loud in his ears, the hot breath of an open maw on the back of his neck. It spurred his thundering heart and hooves to charge forth. His flute clutched tightly to his chest, unable to deter the massive beast with his sweet song. He cut a curve quickly, taking the race off the beaten path. His hooves stumbled on the quick detour, sliding across the earth in the mud. His hip matted with the decaying leaves and moss of the forest floor but the little Satyr had no time to fuss about the mess. He scrambled back up to his feet, clawing at the ground to surge forward, diving into a nook, hidden by heavy brush. The massive wolf darted past, unaware of his prey’s misdirection. The branches creaked and groaned ahead, broken through by the larger reddish brown furred beast.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Svart_Jade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svart_Jade/gifts).



> I do not own Thom Rook as an OC. That is @Svart_Jade's deputy OC. This is a gift to them for getting me hooked on Thom and Jasper friendship fics and further encouraging my love for teratophilia relationships and fantasy creatures. 
> 
> This is a Far Cry 5 fantasy AU.

Hoof beats thundering across the landscape. Each step digging into the earth, leaving a trail of their fleeing path. The heavy panting of a broad chest was hot on his trail. Paws tearing through the wooded trail behind him, ripping branches from limbs as he pushed on ahead. The low growl felt loud in his ears, the hot breath of an open maw on the back of his neck. It spurred his thundering heart and hooves to charge forth. His flute clutched tightly to his chest, unable to deter the massive beast with his sweet song. He cut a curve quickly, taking the race off the beaten path. His hooves stumbled on the quick detour, sliding across the earth in the mud. His hip matted with the decaying leaves and moss of the forest floor but the little Satyr had no time to fuss about the mess. He scrambled back up to his feet, clawing at the ground to surge forward, diving into a nook, hidden by heavy brush. The massive wolf darted past, unaware of his prey’s misdirection. The branches creaked and groaned ahead, broken through by the larger reddish brown furred beast.

 

He tucked his legs underneath him, fingers curled tightly around the old wooden flute with its elegant engraving. His bright blue eyes welled up with frantic tears. His ears tucked back behind the ebony ram’s horns curling out from the sides of his skull. The mess of raven hair hiding much of it from view, speckled with twigs and leaves that snagged into the normally well groomed locks. He squeezed his eyes shut as he willed his heart to quiet down, fearing the wolf would hear him from a mile away. His peaceful little stroll along the lakeshore had turned into a nightmare race for his life. The massive beast had come out of nowhere, teeth ripping through his satchel and nearly snatching away his flute with the rest of his carefully procured belongings. He had just enough time to save the precious item before racing off into the woods, rising higher and higher up the mountain towards its peak, where the woods were thicker and harder to maneuver through. The trees closer together, prickly bushes and shrubbery huddled around the bases.

 

The mountain felt much older up here, less explored. Not many animals traversed this high and certainly not any sentient beings. The terrain was dangerous, giving off an air of warning that made the Satyr want to return back to his friendly little oasis where his companion slept. He pushed himself up on shaky legs like a newborn faun, stepping out to look both directions. His ears twitching, searching for the slightest sound to warn of trouble. All that came was the soft flutter of leaves on the wind as it jostled his raven locks around. His tail flicked against his flank as he emerged from his hiding place, one cautious step at a time. His head on a swivel as he turned the direction he came, following the disturbances in the forest, back down the mountain. He stopped when his hoof rested next to the sizable wolf print, nails digging into the earth with the sheer weight and size of the malicious beast.

 

He froze up, his body going stone still when a branch groaned. His ears flicked, repositioning to find the source. He didn’t turn back or dare a glance at the cause. He took a deep breath and started at a full spring ahead. Before he even realized it, the strong weight of a large form barreled into him from the nearby brush. The wind direction shifted, allowing the scent to reach his twitching nose. The scent of wolf. The heat of breath curling across the back of his neck as he was pressed deeper into the muddy forest floor.

 

The scent of blood rankled his nostrils, his hands splayed out before him, one reaching for his fallen flute, rolled just out of arm’s reach. His other curling into the soft soil beneath him. He whimpered, giving fearful little bleats as teeth pressed into his shoulder. Blood rising up from the surface wounds, light pinpricks of pain driven by sharp incisors. Those same incisors moving to rest around the back of his throat. A light squeeze of warning forcing the Satyr into submission. His hooves ceasing their frantic attempts to find leverage.

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the oppressive weight grind down against his lower back. A low snarl falling from the beast’s maw, accompanied by words he was not expecting. “You’ve strayed into the wrong territory little lamb.” It rumbled out with ease, spoken perfectly like any mortal man. It took some time for the Satyr to realize what sort of beast he had crossed, albeit was accidental. A rough tongue dragged across the Satyr’s wounded shoulder, lapping up the rising droplets of blood. “You taste so sweet. A prize far better than any deer or ram on my mountain.” There was hunger in the creature’s voice. A tone that sent terror throughout the Satyr’s body. He was easily repositioned, forcing his gaze to meet the beast above him. Striking glacial blue hues meeting the Satyr’s teary eyed gaze. His raven locks mattered and disheveled from the mud and leaves that had pasted to his form. His hooves shifting idly, the warning signs to flee still blaring in the back of his mind.

 

The ruddy fur had turned to a scruffy beard with a wisping of red hair covering the top of the beast’s head. Though a monster of a man loomed over him still, half transformed between the two sides. The claws and sharp incisors remained, bared into a wolfish grin. His ears perked as he pressed a heated appendage against the Satyr’s inner thigh. A surprised bleat burst from the timid creature’s lips, his hand rising to push on the werewolf’s shoulders but it was futile. The wolf was far stronger and bigger than his little lamb. Even with his horns to defend with, the satyr was helpless to act. The little snarl petered out, replaced by a deep hearty laugh as the wolf lowered himself to sniff at his lamb’s neck. His teeth catching an ear between the incisors, giving it the gentlest of nips. The Satyr jolted in surprise, letting out another little bleat of alarm. “You gave me quite a chase little lamb. A prize well earned.”

 

His alarm increased as the werewolf shifted off of his body, the heated flesh between his legs declaring his excitement for the chase. The ruddy fur still shrouding much of his body with a long powerful tail wagging away with sheer delight. His strong arms looping around the Satyr and hoisting him into his arms with ease, another growl rolling out of the beast’s chest as he sniffed at the Satyr’s neck. “You’re mine now.” His advances ceased long enough to collect the Satyr’s fallen flute, giving it back to his little lamb to hold on as he urged the Satyr’s arms around his neck. Confused and conflicted, the terrified Satyr did little to protest as they followed the trail further up the mountain.

 

The little ram held tight with all his strength as they bounded over streams and leap over fallen logs with ease. The wolf trudging through the wilderness with all the ease and grace of an apex predator. It made their piddly little chase earlier look like a lamb’s game of ring around the rosy. He pressed his face into the wolf’s neck, feeling a strong hand come to rest against his back, fingers trailing along in slow sweeping strokes. He shivered, his ears drooped with his continued fear of the immense beast. The wolfish appearance slowly fading to that of a simple man, still larger than life and as foreboding as a winter storm. Eyes like ice yet they held so much warmth, a heated hunger that edged along the primal abyss of instinct and intent.

 

The echo of howls that greeted them, quickly closed in from an open clearing ahead. The Satyr jolted at the sound, clinging to the wolf much tighter than before. His face buried into the other’s shoulder, tail tucked against his flank. A light tremble rippling through his form as the barks and growls surrounded. The wolf offered a deep hearty laugh, full of amusement and a peaceful sense of joy. “Now now, where are yer manners? Sit!” He barked out, a laugh curling around his words. The wolf knelt down to rest the Satyr on the soft grassy expanse. He coaxed the lamb’s head to the side, gently cupping his chin to make him look at the gathered pack.

 

A collection of massive white and grey wolves waited with wagging tails and bright eyes, gazing at the newcomer with their Alpha. Little pups milled about, tumbling and playing with one another until they rolled into the gathered circle with a raucous of chirps and whines, their chubby little bodies making their way towards their Alpha’s prize, giving the Satyr little sniffs and licks. The approval of the little ones seems to sate the interest of the older wolves, their faces painted with red markings. A symbol of ownership to the Alpha’s pack.

 

The satyr reached out towards the little pups, his hand still trembling as one sniffed his fingers before raising its head to meet his touch. He relaxed, shifting onto his knees as he shuffled closer. He jolted when the larger wolves gathered around him, closing the circle with a dreadful rumble. His ears folded back behind his horns with a fearful bleat on quivering lips. His tail tucked as he looked around. The wolves stepped forward, noses nudging at his back and around his neck, tongues pushed out for small licks and large noisy sniffs. He ducked down, fearing they were prepared to take a bite from him, his hands raised protectively before a long wet tongue streaked a path up his face and into his hairline. He shuddered, eyes wide with confusion as he looked the wolf in the face. The bright eyes staring back at him before the collective pack pounced on him, pinning him to the ground as they nuzzled and licked, giving soft nibbles on his horns and ears but nothing too rough.

 

“Alright, alright. Ya greeted him properly.” The ruddy furred Alpha parted the pack of wolves with his presence, the elders stepping back to let him through. Their eyes watching with intent as the satyr was scooped up into the werewolf’s arms with ease. The arms looped back around the wolf’s shoulders instinctively, face pressed into the broad shoulder as they continued further into the grassy clearing. The ram offering a brief glance around and finding their destination was a cozy little cabin perched with a lovely view over a crystal blue lake down the mountain. The same one that the satyr had been walking along the shoreline of.

 

It made sense now, how the wolf knew of his presence in the woods. He could see the little willow tree overlooking the bank from here. The same one the Satyr had sat beneath to rest and play his flute, watching the water ripple and swell with his song. The flow of fish milling about the shallows, their little silver bodies streaking back and forth in playful little bursts of fins through the algae covered rocks.

 

He let out a soft sigh, turning his deep blue orbs towards the quickly approaching cabin. The werewolf pushing the door open with his shoulder and maneuvering them into the warm interior. Everything was made of carefully hand carved wood, the furnishings and furniture. Even the little embellishments, intricate engravings of tree branches and fire brandings of bucks racing across the landscape of the mantle. It was the wolf’s pride and joy. His greatest treasure for his pack to reside in. His home on his holy mountain. It was all one large room inside with a loft for storage overlooking them from above. A chandelier and sconces fixed to offer light in every corner, a bed and kitchen space as well as dining room table with enough seats for four left in the center. All of it was positioned around the centerpiece of the home, the massive fireplace and stone hearth.

 

The bed was large on the opposite side of the room. Bigger than any the Satyr had ever seen, though he hadn’t seen many. His sleeping spaces included the boughs of apple trees and warm sunning rocks near water edges and cozy little meadows filled with flowers and the sweet grass sprouts of spring. He’s come across human campsites with their fabric bed rolls and canvas hammocks strung between trees. Though, he considered the wolf’s size and assumed the massive bed was only a necessity for such a massive beast.

 

The bed itself was soft, plush and filled with straw, layered with many warm furs and pelts to keep it’s occupants warm on long cold nights. The satyr had been laid to rest atop the pile of pelts, surrounded by the furs of elk and deer, a handful of beaver were sewn together and older tawny hides of past wolves. Antlers and horns decorated the home, offering light from their curves where candles were place, filled with wax and fresh wicks. The soft glow wasn’t too harsh, allowing shadows to snake around the edges of the room. Not all of them were lit, just the centerpieces. The hearth was filled with failing embers, rejuvenated by the wolf as he supplied it with fresh wood and blew into it. The embers kindled small flames that licked at the new fuel, taking to it with greed as it steadily grew with life and warmth.

 

The wolf wandered around the room, collecting a pair of dark trousers and an olive green tunic. He shrugged on a pair of fur boots to cover his bare feet and retrieved a leather satchel. Within was a small silver tin that contained a clear gel like substance. He approached the bed, taking a seat on the edge where he came to rest, turning his body to face the satyr with a soft hush. “Don’t fear little lamb. This will help your wounds.” He scooped a little of the substance onto his fingertips, offering it to the satyr to inspect. He held his flute tight in his grasp as he looked over the new substance, giving it a curious sniff. It had a herbal scent to it but something greasy lying beneath. Fatty almost but he couldn’t put a name to its source. He shifted to expose the scrapes that battered his lean form. Gentle hands applied the gel to each little cut, nick and reddened mark. Soothing the evidence of their chase and the heat that settled just beneath the surface.

 

Those glacial orbs inspected each wound with intent, brows furrowed in concentration as he provided care to his little lamb. It allowed the satyr to observe the frightful beast a little more. He was reassured by the tender care that he wasn’t intended to be a meal for the wolf and his pack. The friendly facade was an odd display for a predator, one that the satyr wasn’t accustomed to and he’s met many predators intent on devouring him in the past. None as gentle as the big bad wolf before him. Maybe, this wolf wasn’t as bad as he was led to believe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The satyr and the wolf learn how to live with each other.

The satyr would like to retract his consideration. He was sitting rather grumpily on the log outside the wolf’s cabin. The wolf, come to find out, his name is Jacob. And the Satyr had, with much effort and frustration, introduced himself as Jasper. The wolf, Jacob, discovered his new little lamb was a silent one. He didn’t speak like most satyrs, extending his emotions through the music he played on his flute. Jasper played a spell, bringing the flowers to bloom and grow around them into a miniature meadow, with one such plant being a shrub that grew from the nearby treeline. He showed it to the wolf when asked his name, the shrub was known as Jasper with its mound-like pink blooms. It was short and stocky but very beautiful to look at and came in many colors. Jasper was very proud of his name, even showing Jacob the elegant carving of the plant inscribed in the delicate engravings of his flute. It was surrounded by Angel’s Bells and Lilacs to show the flute had been passed down to previous satyr’s before reaching him. Each plant symbol carved into the wood to bond with it’s holder and allows them to cast their ancient magic.

 

Jasper played his flute softly throughout the evening as night neared, while Jacob worked around the cabin, flitting from place to place as he worked. Tools gripped in rough worn hands, calloused with time and hard work. Jasper’s blue orbs would dart to the side to catch little flickers of a leather object in the werewolf’s grasp. It wasn’t until night started to pluck at the horizon, sinking the sun down over the mountain horizon, bursts of orange rays scattered across the glassy reflection of the lake below. The subtle crunch of bark and rocks under foot signaled the wolf was looming over the satyr from behind. Jasper’s head tilted up to gaze at the foreboding figure when a hand dropped down to the top of his head to stop his attempt. “Hold still. Face forward for a minute, little lamb.I got something special for ya.” The voice rumbled out, low enough and close enough to his ear. Shivers ghosted down his spine but he obeyed as the warm breath curled across his bare neck. The raven locks swept aside to  bare the sun kissed skin to the open mountain air. 

 

A heavy weight pressed against his neck, the soft tinkle of a bell rising in the air, gently disturbing the serenity of the landscape. The leather strap was tightened carefully, nothing too firm but not loose enough to come free or get caught accidentally. He was given a gentle pat to the shoulder when it was finished. The wolf stepping over the large log with long strides and coming to rest beside his little lamb. “Now I can keep an ear on ya.” Jacob chuckled, poking at the little cow bell attached to the front of an old repurposed puppy training collar. He used the collars when the newest litter of pups was being trained to hunt. Just tying a lead to the older female wolves in the main pack and it keeps the curious pups from wandering off since they don’t exactly listen to the alpha yet. They don’t learn respect until it’s time to fulfill their role in the pack. A little alteration for a bell and he had the perfect Lamb Alarm. 

 

He observed the satyr as his hand came to touch the bell. It gave another ring, chiming loud enough for the whole pack to perk their ears up and gaze at Jasper. His cheeks burned hot with embarrassment, his fingertips trailing across the leather that was bound firmly in place, scraping at the buckle at the back. “Ah, ah ah. No taking that off little lamb. Its for your own good. Wouldn’t want my pup’s gettin the wrong idea and going huntin for fresh meat when you wander off.” He gave an amused chuckle at the confused expression directed his way. “Whatever enters those woods is fair game to my pack.” He pointed out. “Yer lucky I saw ya first. Or else you’d be dinner by now.”

 

Jasper gave the werewolf a horrified look, his gaze darting towards the wolves that were stretched out across the grassy landscape. The dirt patches that had been their usual napping area was now covered in soft mosses and lush grasses, little wild flowers sprouted up around, purple blossoms speckling the new growth. They were enjoying the new stretch of grass, rolling and playing around in it with carefree growls and grunts. Even the older wolves were napping in the cooler grassy spots, hiding away from the harsher rays of sun that had bathed the mountain side. He couldn’t imagine these peaceful pups chasing him through the woods so relentlessly but then again, now that he looked the werewolf over, he didn’t look that way either and Jasper was sorely proven wrong. 

 

Jacob grunted his approval at his lamb’s expression. His hand coming to rest atop Jasper’s head to ruffle the raven strands up between his horns. He pushed back up to his feet and stretched his back out. “Good boy. Now head inside and shut the door.” He directed, watching the confusion on the satyr’s features. “Night is coming and it's time to hunt.” At those words the older wolves of the pack leap to their feet, gathering around their alpha with a hunger and eagerness. Paws shifting excitedly in the dirt as low grunts and growls rumbled out of their large furry chests. 

 

Jasper was on his hooves in a heartbeat, clutching his flute to his chest as he stumbled back and headed inside. His gaze tossing back to see Jacob shake his body out as if to loosen up. Fur sprouted across his form in wisp patches, most of it congregating around his chest and face, stretching from his beard down. He removed each piece of clothing and rested it carefully on the log so as not to be damaged by the transition, folded neatly and in order. With the last item gone, he dropped to all fours, doubling in size compared to his pack wolves. The ruddy fur was a fiery color in the fading rays of sunlight, bursting like the campfire flames and licking across his skin in a gorgeous swathe of burgundy and earthy undertones.

 

He watched the wolf race off into the woods, following the same trail they took to reach the cabin. A dozen white and grey furred bodies tailing close behind, bolting like blurs through the trees until they faded into the darkness like phantoms.

 

The satyr huddled into the cabin, shutting the door behind him. His gaze flitting around the inside of the living space. Before, he had been too shocked and frightened to notice, his concerns wrapped up with the Wolf’s looming form as he cleaned the Satyr up. His fur freed of the clumps of mud and leaves that matted it in his fall. His tail twitched and ears drooped down, tucked behind his horns as the little details that made up the home’s functionality stuck out like a very sore and sickening thumb. He flitted from the ram horn sconces that were fixed to the walls then up to the antlered chandelier with the elk and deer horns mingling together to form the body of the display. There were antlered mounts hanging on the walls and horns made into utensil handles, knife grips and even small decorative additions to the hand carved furniture. Beyond that, the over abundance of furs that littered the place from the floorboards to the walls to the massive pile that made up the bed. 

 

Jasper wandered around the cabin, his gaze sweeping left and right in search of a place to seat himself that wasn’t on pelts or near antlers. Eventually, he gave up trying, feeling like a live wire was under his skin. He was skittish and flitting from place to place until he finally decided to head back outside. He knew Jacob had ordered him to stay in the cabin, but it felt wrong when he was alone. His mind wandering too much, taking in the decor a little too much. Imagining himself in the place of all those animals, at the maws of the big bad wolf. 

 

It took a little bit of effort, given the sides of the cabin were different from the rocky slopes he’s scaled in his youth, but he managed to perch himself atop the roof of he cabin. His flute in hand as he sat down, legs crossed at the knees as he started to softly play his song once more. The sweet melody soothing his nerves and worries as he lost himself to the song. He didn’t stop until the moon rose high into the night sky and the embers of the campfire had all but died. The distant excited howling of the wolves closed in quickly, slicing through the night air. In his dreamlike state, his mind jumped quickly into a panic before he saw the first shreds of mahogany fur breaching the treeline. A large tawny form was draped over the werewolf’s shoulder, hooves dangling down in subtle twitches, the muscles still active even after death. The head of the large Buck was dangling against Jacob’s back as he hefted the kill off his shoulder and onto the ground near the fire. The wolves circled eagerly, some bellying up begging for a bite. 

 

Jacob growled at them, a low and vicious sound that put them back in their place. They backed up and each wolf lined up. Some were licking their maws clean of blood, having helped take down the kill. The hooves were speckled red where they had been nipped at and bitten to slow it down or direct it to a different location. The set of haunting glacial blue orbs darted from the dead deer towards the figure fidgeting nervously on the roof. He adjusted his form, the fur falling away and smoothing out to clear skin. The elongated muzzle shortening to form normal facial features. The ears and tail that signalled dominance shrank into nothing. He was sweat soaked, hair plastered to his skin, the little red wisps darkened by the dampness. Muscles rippling and twitching from the exertion of the hunt, body still jittery with excitement. 

 

The low rumble of a voice made Jasper jolt in surprise as the wolves craned their heads up at him like a new and interesting fixture to the house itself. “Why are you on my roof, little lamb?” There  was a nervous little squeak that burst from Jasper’s throat, accompanied by more nervous shifting and uncertainty. He just shrugged, hands gesturing in the air but the motions fell deafly in defeat. His shoulders sinking before he held up his flute in answer. “I thought I told you to stay inside.” The words pressed hard, a deep tone resonating inside the wolf, voice rougher than normal. 

 

When no visible response came, Jacob sighed and shook his head. He gestured in a ‘Come here’ motion for his little lamb to climb down. He wasn’t expecting the gutsy leap that landed Jasper at his side. He stumbled only briefly on the uneven earth but managed to catch himself, correcting his upright posture. Jacob offered a chuckle of amusement before he started pulling his clothes back on. Only his boots and trousers first. His tunic remained resting on the log. The knife on his belt withdrawn as he knelt beside the kill and started cutting through the fur to reach the meat. His intent was to keep the pelt like he’s done many others. 

 

As he dressed the deer, the heat of the body rising on the cool mountain air in large clouds of steam. Jasper flinched at each knife wrench and pull. The body shuddering with the brute force. The wolves whimpering hungrily at the side, wanting a piece of the kill for themselves. Jacob would correct them with a growl, taking what he needed from the deer before he would let them feast like kings. After all, a well fed pack is a happy pack and Jacob prided himself in keeping his pack happy and protected. 

 

When the work was finished, Jasper had disappeared from view but the soft chiming of the bell on his collar gave away his position. Jacob walked around the cabin, a wooden basin filled with slabs of meat and a few organs including the liver and heart of the beast. Blood coated his hands as he gripped the knife loosely in hand. His gaze resting on the huddled form of his little lamb, seeing the pallor of his appearance and the slight tremble of his form. The werewolf was confused and concerned. 

 

The distant growls of his pack ripping into their meal were heard just around the corner. The snapping of jaws and crunch of bone under a powerful vice grip. The carnivores unaware of their guest’s discomfort. The curling tendrils of nerves and unrest that Jasper had felt inside the cabin earlier had graduated to nausea and dizziness. His hands gripped his flute tightly as he ducked his head, giving a shaky breath as the low rumble of Jacob’s voice rolled out with innocent inquiry. “Not hungry?” He offered the bowl in Jasper’s direction. When the lamb flinched and shook his head, that shade of starch white that had wormed to the surface became a sickening green hue. He tilted his gaze away. 

 

Jacob frowned, his brows furrowed for a long time as he inspected the bowl in his hands. “Oh, well, if it's an issue of it being raw, I can cook it up for ya.” He explained, shifting the basin in hand as he thought it over. “A little bit of heart in your diet won’t hurt, ya know.” 

 

The satyr only curled further into his little huddled ball, his head dipping down to tuck between his knees. Jacob took that as a ‘no’ and left it at that, turning back to the campfire to stoke the flames back to life. Jasper stayed curled up in his little corner for an hour before the wolf returned to his side. There were no words spoken between them. Jacob was wearing his olive green tunic and was cleaned up. The smell of blood washed away and replaced by the scent of smoke and damp earth. Like he was born of the forest floor and it infected every part of him. 

 

With little effort, he scooped the Satyr up into his arms, gaining a soft sleepy  bleat of confusion. The flute gripped tightly in one hand but the other curled around the wolf’s neck, holding on as he rested his face into the crook of Jacob’s shoulder. Every deep breath absorbed that beautiful scent of the mountainside. Jacob whisked him away inside the cabin. The moon had already reached its peak in the night and was descending back to the horizon, his pale light obscured by the treeline, casting the mountain into a heavy darkness, like a massive blanket had been draped over the land. Even the campfire did little to combat it but inside the cabin, it was warm and bright. The hearth remained burning with fresh fuel fed to the embers. 

 

The soft chime of Jasper’s bell sounding as he was carried towards the bed where he was gently laid upon the mound of pelts. Jasper didn’t have the mind to fuss or fight about where he was laid to rest. When the large warm body of the wolf came to rest at his side, the satyr curled up towards the broad chest. His head coming to rest over the wolf’s heart as he settled in. The soft glow of the firelight was comfortable, a larger moose pelt laid over them to offer that extra bit of warmth. The satyr was helpless to deny sleep another moment. The soft rumble of a voice murmuring in his ear was his last witness of the real world until morning. 

  
  


When morning came, Jasper awoke to the sound of the cabin door opening and closing several times. His eyes blinking slowly as he observed the empty space beside him in the bed. The warmth of the pelt tucked around him to keep him comfortable. His head tilted to find the massive figure of the wolf standing in front of the hearth, stacking freshly chopped wood along the wall. He stooped down to fuss with a cast iron pan that rested on the hot coals brought to the edge of the stonework. “Morning!” Jacob greeted, his gaze never lifting as something delicious sizzled in the pan, the scent rising in the air and permeating the cabin. “Hope ya like eggs cause that’s what’s for breakfast.”

 

Unlike the nightmare meal that had taken place the night before, Jasper was much more comfortable with this choice. He pushed himself up in the bed and nodded enthusiastically. Jacob tossed his chin towards the dining room table as he murmured. “Go have a seat. It’ll be done in a second.”

 

The soft scuff of hooves on the floorboards were a loud interruption to the peaceful morning. Jasper flinched at the sound far too loud for his own ears, his eyes darting towards Jacob but he was fixed on his handiwork. Unfazed by the noise as he continued to clomp towards the table. The soft bell at his throat ringing its presence along the way with every swaying step. He inspected the spread already present as he pulled out his chair. There was a bowl of fresh berries and a couple of apples resting beside them. A few cuts of wild boar were already cooked and resting on a platter, presumably made outside since the scent wasn’t as strong indoors now. A pitcher of fresh water sat in the center with two tankards sitting beside it. A loaf of bread was already cut and set on a wooden board with fresh jams. Jacob brought the last of the spread to the table, setting down a plate before them both. An egg rested on Jasper’s and three were present on Jacob’s. 

 

He slipped into his seat with ease and started to eat, taking a slice of bread and stabbing the cuts of boar with his fork to lay across it. Jasper’s attention was focused on the fruits and a slice of bread slathered in blackberry jam. The wolf offering a hum of approval as he observed his little lamb eating away at his dinner table. “There ya go. We’ll get you nice and fattened up in no time.” He chuckled warmly, catching Jasper’s bewildered expression. It only made that hearty laugh rise further before fading out to continue with their meal. It was otherwise uneventful. Even the clean up was peaceful. 

 

Jacob spent most of his day outdoors and so did Jasper. The satyr often sitting not too far from the wolf as he worked. The pack roamed freely through the woods in their free time, coming back within minutes with a whistle from Jacob. He hooked the older much larger wolves up to a wagon as they traveled down the paths to the lake shore below. It was a long slow trek with Jasper sitting on the driver’s bench. Jacob walked alongside the wagon to ensure the wheels didn’t slip or get stuck. He gripped it firmly when they faced steep slopes so it wouldn’t slide into his pack mates. Eventually they reached the shoreline by afternoon where they loaded up a small rowboat that was tucked out of sight, carefully hidden from view in a rocky alcove. 

 

It took both Jacob and Jasper to drag it out of cover and load it into the back of the wagon. Jacob’s hand coming to rest on the body of the boat, fingers trailing over the dents and dings in the wood. The smaller cracks and scrapes that damaged the side. The repetitive patch jobs he’s done on it. He gave a wistful sigh, shaking his head before leading his wolves back up the mountain. Jasper riding on the boat itself to keep it tied down and ensure it doesn’t come loose. The trek back up was longer as the wolves pulled it up steep inclines and through rougher terrain. The added weight made the wagon wheels snag on roots and catch on uneven ground. By the end of it, they all were relieved to finally reach the cabin. Jasper helped Jacob unload it and carry it around to the side of the cabin. “Not quite sure what I’ll do with it but it sure as hell can’t float no more. She’s got too many leaks in her. All she’s good for is firewood at this point.” He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed once more, having put so much work into building the boat back in his youth, it had never failed him in all those years but it was inevitable.

 

Jasper hummed thoughtfully before gesturing at Jacob for his attention. The wolf raised a questioning brow at his little lamb. “What is it?” He watched Jasper point at the boat, making a rowing motion with his hands. Jacob gave another bewildered expression as the gestures continued to Jasper pointing at the inside of the boat then to the ground. “Yeah, it’s stuck on land now.” He assumed that was obvious. Jasper bleated at him in frustration as he pointed at the boat again and made a motion of using his flute. He gestured at the grassy patches around the camp now, the signs of his song being played. It took a minute before it dawned on Jacob what the lamb was asking. “You want to use it as a garden box?” Jasper nodded enthusiastically. Jacob chuckled, his hand rubbing over the scruff of his beard in thought. His gaze wandering as he appeared to be considering the answer. Jasper gave him bright pleading eyes before he gave in with another hearty laugh. “Alright, fine. You can have it.”

 

The large hands ruffled up Jasper’s raven locks as Jacob moved towards a pile of short logs awaiting to be chopped into quarters. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.” He hummed, kicking a few logs out into the open. “Ya want to make it a garden, we’ll need to make some supports.” He gestured towards the size of the logs he pulled out, each roughly about the same length and width. “Come help me find some more. Ya gonna earn it today.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and kudos down below on what you think. I appreciate any and all feedback!

It took a few days for the pair to get acclimated to the new dynamics of the cabin. It took Jacob offering meat to Jasper two more times before the outside sitting area was rife with nightshade and wolfsbane growing in bushels. Jacob hissed through clenched teeth, refusing to leave the cabin for the whole day as Jasper glared at the werewolf and the slab of raw meat lying in the wooden basis. There was a set of freshly harvested antlers sitting on the table as well, the ends still tinged red from being removed. Jasper’s eyes like daggers, transfixed on the wolf as if they alone could flay the predator of his very flesh. “Okay! Okay! I get it.” Jacob barked out, his back to both the literal and metaphorical wall. The bitter scent of the deadly plants creeping through the frame and the open window overlooking his prep table. 

 

It took several hours for Jasper to calm down before the flowers dissipated as if the wind had taken them and blown them far away. The ground returned to the normal harmless sweet grass that flourished, soft and vibrant under Jasper’s cloven steps. He came to rest on the log beside the campfire and played his flute, Jacob doing his work out of sight and clearly out of mind. The soft notes plucking along the air with their magical desires, making the garden boat prosper with luscious delights for the satyr to feast on. Often making a salad with every meal, the leaves and vegetables washed in a bucket outside of the cabin window, filled to the brim with rainwater. 

 

Jacob would dump it out when it got too full, coming to find one of those days, the imprints of horseshoes pressed deep into the soil. They trailed from the side of the cabin to rest somewhat anxiously at his window, looming over the very same bucket where a bright red water lily had begun to grow. His nostrils flared as he took in deep breaths, seeking out the scent trails of the intruding animal but nothing lingered on the air. The hoof prints didn’t lead very far before vanishing into the forest leading down the path to the lakeshore. There was no interest shown of his wolves, no growls or disturbances in the night of an intruding creature strolling so carelessly into the heart of a predator’s territory. He shook his head away, assuming his mistake and reminding himself that Jasper was of cloven hoof as well. His flute growing a variety of plants in his presence, a water lily certainly wouldn’t be outside the Satyr’s limits. His mind tossing back to the frightful display of incurring the satyr’s ire. 

 

Jacob offered more inquiry about their meal choices. The Satyr appeared not to mind eggs being a part of their meals, nor was he bothered by the minnow fish Jacob caught at the lake, cooking them up with some herbs grown in the garden boat. Jasper ended up eating most of Jacob’s fishing bait but the wolf easily dismissed it,  just happy his lamb was eating. Another surprise came when Jasper was expertly digging in the mud, collecting different kinds of shellfish and clams from the layers of muck and sand on the shore. He captured a few sizable frogs that were later cooked over the fire to a roasted tender consistency. Jacob chuckled, leading Jasper down to the far end of the lake where the water was deeper near the bank and pressed up against thicker root systems. The area was unusually thick with bright red water lilies growing along the edges. It took a while for Jacob to find a good spot but once he had, they dug in real well. He taught the Satyr how to fish for catfish using nothing but his hand and feeling for a muddy hole. By the mid afternoon, they collected quite a haul for their evening feast and rode the wagon back up to to the cabin.

 

Jacob stood near the fire, roasting a catfish on a spit while Jasper harvested a few greens from his garden. He played his song softly afterwards to replenish what he used and to soothe the hungry bliss of the pups, all eagerly staring at the fire. Drool dripping from open maws and tails wagging fast enough to kick up a November gale. Eventually they came to rest around the camp, the spell holding them off until after dinner where Jacob would give them extra meaty bones to chew on for the night. The next day would lead them out hunting once more. For now, they were content. 

 

As Jacob finished up the meat, he turned to collect their prey when a scent wafted towards him. His nose wrinkled up and nostrils flaring in surprise, startling him by the powerful pungent scent. It was sour and bitter at first, strong enough to coat his taste buds in its foul notes, a mingling of sharp citrus and the rotting tendrils of sun spoiled fish. The scent danced around him, making him shift to avoid it, turning his head to pry away from the breeze carrying it. He supposed it came from the lake or some varmint stockpiling fish in its nooks nearby only to spoil in the summer heat. The citrus he brought to blame on Jasper’s music. He shook his head and forced himself to correct his attention. The scent drifting off almost as quickly as it had arrived. He didn't make remark in it, finding it unnecessary as he growled out instead. “Dinner’s ready, lamb. Come inside.” 

 

He pushed the front door open, stepping to the side as he booted foot propped the entrance open. Jasper rushed inside with an arm full of freshly washed vegetables and herbs. They rushed around, Jasper setting the table and fussing with his contribution. Jacob cut the fish into their designated helpings and plated each. Both coming to rest in their chosen spots as resuming their peaceful mealtime together. 

 

After a week’s time had passed of the two living together in their new little lifestyle, Jacob decided to teach his little lamb a few helpful skills. Early one morning, he woke his lamb at the crack of dawn. While Jasper stirred through the lingering tendrils of drowsiness, Jacob made a quick and easy breakfast for them which they devoured while getting dressed and ready for the day. Jasper’s face freshly washed in the water basin and fingers braiding his long raven hair out of his face. Jacob made him leave his flute by the bed with assurance that it wouldn’t be needed. He was about to teach his lamb the values of hard work and the value of using one’s own two hands. 

 

He led Jasper outside where he directed him to rest beside a set of wooden supports one would use for working on a boat. Jacob had moved them out to the front of the cabin in the night, dragging them out from behind the building where they were covered in vines from lack of use. With them, he brought a massive ten foot log he cut two days earlier and hauled back to the camp with the wagon. He set the log on the table and brought out all of his carving tools from within the cabin, carefully tucked away into the loft space. “We’re gonna toughen up those hands of yours. I hope you’re ready.” He warned, giving Jasper a smirk as the satyr looked around at the supplies. His gaze tilted down towards his hands as he held them palm up. Jacob took one hand and placed a chisel tool in it. “Come on. We need to form the keel first.”

 

They started the day with building a rowboat. It was a long slow process that had many obstacles in their path but Jacob was well versed in the art of wood carving. He built his home and everything inside of it by hand. Something he was incredibly proud of though, having a second set of hands made the work go faster, and not just because of the effort. Companionship made the task less tedious, gave him a sense of bonding with the Satyr as he showed Jasper how to chip away the wood and smooth out the grain. His little lamb tired quickly with the strength based work, cutting away the long strips but Jasper was excellent with the little details. He refined the cuts, smoothed them out, chiseled away the rough patches and pockets that the larger tools couldn’t reach. He learned quickly and easily slipped into the task. The wolf couldn’t have been any prouder of his little lamb. 

 

They worked through the afternoon, stopping only when the wolves were getting rowdy cause they were hungry. After the break, they resumed and by dinner time, they had a good portion of the hull and keel finished. By the next day, they started on the rest of the frame. When lunch time came around, he dug out the wooden planks he built ahead of time, already properly measured based on the older boat and he taught Jasper how to level them and overlap them evenly when placed. He showed him how to form a watertight seal. It took two more days for the boat to be finished, the satyr was beyond stiff and sore, body covered in a sprinkling of bruises and welts from the hard work. His hands blistered in places he hadn’t known could blister from gripping the tools for so long. 

 

Jacob rewarded his little lamb for all his hard work by laying him down in their shared bed. His body looming over Jasper’s, carefully straddling the satyr’s hips as large strong hands worked out the kinks and knots in the muscles. Jasper’s face pressed into the pillow, inhaling the woodsy smoky scent left there by the wolf. His arms tucked underneath as attentive hands worked away at his body. Fingers pressing into all the right places, drawing soft mewls and whines from Jasper’s lips, pleasant and appreciative. His back arching in some places and flexing, head tilting back with encouraging mewls. 

 

Jacob growled lowly in approval, watching his little lamb melt beneath his touch. The soft glow of the hearth lighting the room, casting shadows across Jasper’s features, illuminating the blue jewels that gazed off in dazed slits. The little quiver of his bottom lip as he hissed softly and groaned with a deeper need. The satyr’s body rising to meet every touch, ears tucked back behind his horns as the ebony spirals glistened in the soft light. 

 

The wolf leaned closer, nibbling on the tawny velvet of Jasper’s ears, drawing a soft sleepy moan from his lips. The heat of the wolf’s body pressing down on the satyr’s back, closing in for the killing blow when the subtle change in breathing caught his attention. The hunger that simmered in Jacob’s eyes faded out with confusion. He tilted his head at an angle, catching the quiet sounds and the relaxed posture before a hearty chuckle left his chest. His little lamb had dozed off right when things were getting interesting. He sighed with contentment, murmuring into Jasper’s hair as he shifted them under the warmth of the pelts. “Good night my little lamb.” 

  
  
  


 

 

Early the next morning, Jacob dragged Jasper out of bed for a special little trip. They built their rowboat and it was time to test it. He packed a hide sack with provisions for the day, intending to spend quite a while on the water. Jasper brought his flute but kept it tucked into a sack of his own making. It was sloppier looking than Jacob’s, the wolf teaching his lamb once again, how to make things for himself. The sac was made with beaver and leather cording to sew it closed. Jasper braided a leather cording together to make a strap he could loop over his shoulder cross-ways. He was excited to test it out, adding his own set of provisions as well before they loaded up in the wagon and headed for the water. 

 

It took a lot of effort to get the boat to the water where they let it float a few paces out from shore. It was tied to the willow tree, with four large stones resting in the bottom. Jacob explained to Jasper that this would help test for leaks, mimicking the weight of a person being inside. They sat on the bank and fished with cane poles, tossing out their lines and pulling in smaller bait fish. The wolves were released from their wagon harnesses and played about in the shallows, racing around to their hearts delight in the early morning sun. 

 

Jacob watches his pups play, his gaze sweeping over the water and the steadily accumulating red water lilies floating along the edges of the lake in odd areas. They were congesting along the sides in bright bursts of color. Something about them made his hackles rise on the back of his neck, an eerie sense rising from their presence. His attention stolen away once more by the playful splashing in the shallows, this time finding his lamb in the middle of a puppy attack. The youngest of the pack had followed them down with excitement, spending the time they unloaded the boat, pouncing and stalking frogs along the embankment. Now they turned their sights on the satyr and were splashing him with playful pounces and excited bounding. Laughter bubbled up from Jasper’s throat, genuine and warm. A sound that spread a smile across Jacob’s face. 

 

After a few minutes he pulled in his lines and tucked the poles into the back of the wagon. Where they were going, they weren’t necessary. Removing the stones from the bottom of the boat, he gestured for Jasper to climb inside. The slanted interior was uneven for his hooves at first with little for them to catch on to stabilize. He plopped down onto the front bench as Jacob settled into the back, resting his sack beside him and taking up the set of oars from the old boat. He used them to push off from the sandy shore and out to clearer deeper waters. Each row was slow and graceful, never a wasted motion as Jacob whistled with every evenly paced stroke. Jasper’s attention shifted from the wolf towards the steadily increasing depth. He swallowed thickly, staring down at the water with growing anxiety. 

 

“Don’t worry little one. If you fall in, I’ll save ya.” Jacob assured with a warm chuckle. “You won’t drown on my watch.” Jasper nodded slowly and watched as Jacob rowed them out to the center of the lake closest to the willow tree. He took a little black leather pouch out of his bag with silver buckling attached. He hooked it to the end of the rope before checking the contents within. A palm sized totem carving was safely tucked away. It was elegantly carved from a piece of the same wood Jacob used to build the boat. One of the larger chunks they chipped away, the rough edges smoothed out to make a carefully formed ram totem. The horns were painted and textured with a delicate gold finish. There were subtle shading marks from black paint that illuminated the tiny details of the otherwise charming little item. The smile that spread through the red scruff was fond and warm. He buckled the pouch closed, securing a small iron fishing weight to the bottom and dropping it over the edge. He fed the rope, counting the length as he went until he stopped. 

 

His gaze shifting from the rope in the water to the confused satyr sitting across from him. His voice took on a huskier tone as he assured his lamb that nothing was amiss. “We’re just gonna wait a little bit. There’s someone I want ya to meet.” He started to whistle softly, the sound reminiscent of one of Jasper’s songs, slow and long. Jasper listened intently, his fingers itching for his flute already. The song faded just as quickly as it began as Jacob’s grip on the rope tightened. “Oh, you’re gonna be a little shit today, huh?” He cursed, pulling the rope back as his grip was jostled, fighting back and forth with it until it suddenly released and the wolf nearly toppled back into the adjacent side of the boat with the force. The leather pouch sling shotting back up to the surface to land beside him. Jacob grumbled a few terse and possibly foul words under his breath. Jasper’s anxiety was rekindled as he gripped the edges of the boat tightly. 

 

A shadowy figure slithered beneath the clear surface, knocking the long tendrils of seaweed to the side. It pushed through the forest of kelp green as it slided. Jasper caught a glimpse of glassy scales, almost like ice breaching the surface. A long flattened tail, almost snakelike bumping the hull of the boat and making it tremble. Jasper bleated in alarm as the boat rocked side to side. Jacob held out a hand towards Jasper to calm him. “Don’t worry. He’s not gonna flip us. He’s just being an  **_asshole_ ** today.” He raised his voice a little with the tense word. “He’s shy about new people.”

 

The form was longer than the boat as it curled around, the body flowing like the water currents, stirring it up a bit for extra effect. There was a shadow of massive fins, a glass sail breaking the surface as a hump of crystal scales arched and sank back down below. “Put your hand into the water. Let him get to know ya.” Jacob directed. Jasper’s eyes were wide and hesitant at the command. Jacob held his own down to the surface and swirled it around. A sleek pale head rose, bright blue eyes, deeper of shade than Jacob’s but piercing all the same. Slitted nostrils flared with a burst of water spraying up Jacob’s arm. Long whiskers curled down from the creature, like catfish feelers. Ivory horns peeked up above the water, still short to indicate the age of the water dragon as being young. Jasper’s ears tucked behind his horns as he slowly reached his hand into the water. The body disappeared beneath the boat once more, curling around to rise beneath Jasper’s touch. Long needle like teeth were bared with a bubbly growl, deep and gurgling. Jasper yelped but didn’t move his hand. 

 

The nostrils flared again, taking in his scent as those eyes fixed on him, the pupils were diamond slits, fixing on Jasper with predatory intent. “Lamb, this is my baby brother John. He’s the water dragon that lives in this lake. Johnny, meet my little lamb, Jasper.” The dragon gurgled another sound that Jacob met with a growl of his own. “Behave yourself.” The boat was gently knocked against in response to Jacob’s stern reprimand but the dragon sank back beneath the surface and disappeared. 

 

“Well, he’s being moody today.” Jacob grumbled. His gaze watching the water for any more disturbances to show John lurking beneath. He sighed when nothing appeared and shook his head, turning his glacial blue hues towards his lamb. “You did a good job!” Jasper perked up, preening at the approval but it did little to mask his trembling shaky form. His hands still gripping the sides of the boat like a vice as he gave a weak little bleat in response. “Yeah, I think it's time to head home. Get some lunch and relax. That sound good to ya?” Jasper nodded enthusiastically with another shaky sound in his throat. Jacob laughed warmly and gripped the oars. “Just hold on and we’ll be on shore before ya know it.”


End file.
